


As Luck Would Have It

by markiboss (purplelly)



Category: Septiplier - Fandom, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Outsiders AU, greaser!mark, soc!jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:38:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplelly/pseuds/markiboss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And the Socs, they chased us through the neighborhood, right Bob? Yellin' and insultin' us. What were their names?"<br/>"Felix, the blonde one, and his girlfriend, Martzia or somethin'."<br/>"And that other guy, kinda short, with the accent?"<br/>"They all have accents. But I think his name was Sean. You know, McLoughlin? From that long string of siblings - the most brutal Socs of the neighborhood."<br/>"Real assholes. Be careful of 'em, okay, Mark?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Luck Would Have It

**Author's Note:**

> I mentioned an Outsiders AU a while back, and it wouldn't leave my head, so here we are! It's longer than I usually write, aha, if only by a couple thousand. I'm still proud! :D
> 
> WARNING: THERE IS A FIGHT AT ONE POINT IN THE STORY

Mark lets the smoke from the cigarette flow from his nose and mouth before stubbing the hot end into the dirt. Grinding it under his boot for extra measure, he stands and looks around the desolate park. The sky was clear and perfectly reflected the colorful sunset. A beautiful day that contrasts his mood.

It really wasn't something to be so worked up over, but customers can be so damn _irritating_.

His job at the gas station as the cashier leaves him with direct contact with customers. Especially customers who decide to be hard on him simply because he looks the Greaser part.

Which, he is, but that's aside the point. Nobody should be an ass because he wears leather and greases his hair back.

Mark sighs, running a hand through his hair and debating if another cigarette will calm his frustration. He decides it's not worth it, he's already half way through the pack and his lungs are probably shit right now.

So instead, he walks out of the park, fingering the couple coins he has in his pocket. The drive in theatre was only a couple blocks away, and he thinks he has enough for a ticket. Just barely. Maybe. He'll see when he gets there.

In his other pocket was a switchblade Wade had 'borrowed' from the gas station they work at. He was the only one out of him, Wade and Bob that didn't have one. Mark promised himself he'll pay it off as soon as he can. And besides, it's probably best he has one anyways; the Socs could appear at any moment.

He really hopes they weren't around today, especially at the theatre. Mark was already in a bad mood, he didn't need egotistical, snotty rich kids to make it worse.

The drive-in theatre was playing something mildly interesting, so Mark decided it would take his mind off his day. He fished for the coins in his pocket, counting out the change and eyeing the poster with the ticket prices.

He mutters a curse when he realizes he's just a couple cents short. He searches his other pockets just in case, but other than the knife, he has nothing else on him.

"Don't have enough?"

Mark looks up to see a person, a man, with a small smile and simple clothes. He didn't look like a Soc, but he was neither a Greaser. He held out a couple coins, more than enough to pay off what Mark was missing.

"No, thanks," Mark replies. He didn't want to owe this stranger, too.

"Seriously, take it," The man continued. "You won't have to pay me back. It's just a ticket."

Mark contemplated a moment before sighing in defeat. He took one coin from the pile in the stranger's hand, just enough to pay off the ticket.

"Thanks," Mark murmured.

The man nodded. "I'm Jack."

"Mark."

"What brings you to the theatre today, Mark?" Jack asks, and Mark wonders briefly why he would want to keep talking to a Greaser, of all people.

"I thought a movie would be nice," Mark replies shortly.

"Have you seen this one?" Jack continues.

Mark walks up to pay for his ticket and steps aside so Jack can get his.

"No," Mark says, continuing with short answers.

"Not much of a talker, are ya?" Jack asks with a laugh. Mark hums in response and Jack just laughs harder.

They sit at the rows of chairs for people without cars to watch and hear the movie. A few other people are there, but Mark doesn't recognize them. Jack follows him and takes the seat next to him.

"You know, when I saw you I wasn't expecting you to pay," Jack says, something almost like a sneer in his tone. "I sometimes see your people jump the fence."

Mark sighs. Of course he was going to ask. "Yeah, 'my people' sometimes jump the fence. I don't like to owe people, so I try not to." He turns to look Jack in the eye. "And it ain’t a crime to say Greasers." People just can't give them a chance, can they?

Jack puts his hands up in a surrender motion and looks genuinely apologetic. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean for it to sound rude. I was only curious."

He sounds genuine, which is the only reason Mark stops glaring at him. "Not all Greasers are the same, y’know." He huffs and crosses his arms.

Jack doesn't reply, but is contemplative, like he's analyzing what Mark has said. Then he meets his eyes, wearing a small smile. “Yeah, I agree. Everyone’s different, ya? We’re all born in a certain circle and expect to act the type. But not everyone fits in, right?”

Mark doesn’t reply, his eyes still locked on Jack’s, trying to figure out what made him speak so openly. Jack’s the first to look away, and it must be the darkness, but Mark thought he saw his cheeks flush.

Before Mark could say anything, the movie plays, and his attention is rapt to the screen. But his gaze drifts to Jack every so often.

After the movie, the sky is properly dark, the only lights being the street lights. Him and Jack end up walking out together.

“So...I’ll see you around?” Jack suggests awkwardly.

Mark shrugs, thinking, why not? This guy doesn’t seem that bad. “Yeah.”

Jack gives him one more smile before heading down the sidewalk. Mark watches him go, only to realize what he’s doing and walks the other way.

 

A week later and Mark has almost completely forgotten about Jack. He’s come to his mind in fleeting moments, when he passes the movie house or when he picks up a penny. But those are gone as soon as they come, nothing but a memory.

It’s a Wednesday afternoon and Mark stands behind the counter of the gas station, going through the cash register for the tenth time and glancing around the empty shop. Wade and Bob were right next door, at a car repair shop that branches off the station.

Since they all share a house, they split the house bills between them. This job seems to be just enough to survive every week, with some left over.

The bell on the door rings, causing Mark to look up. His eyes flash with recognition as he sees a pair of blue eyes staring at him. Jack smiles and walks up to the counter as Mark brushes a lock of hair out of his face.

“Hey Mark! I didn’t know you worked here,” Jack says.

“Yeah, I do,” Mark replies. “My roommates and I work here, actually. They’re outside at the repair shop.”

If Mark was certain, he would’ve thought Jack looked nervous. “Roommates?”

Mark nods. “We share a house. It’s easier when it comes to groceries and bills.”

Jack nods. “Do they come in here often?”

“Occasionally,” Mark shrugs. “Mostly for lunch breaks. But their job is outside and they’re always busy. Why?”

Jack shrugs. “No reason. Just curious.”

Mark raises an eyebrow but doesn’t inquire further. “So what’d you come in here for?”

“Oh! Yeah,” Jack wanders away, but returns a moment later with a couple sodapops and snacks.

Mark counts up the tab and Jack hands him the amount of money. He doesn’t say much, and almost seems jittery, like he was eager to leave. When Mark hands him a bag full with the snack food, Jack gives him a quick thanks and hurries out the exit.

Mark wonders what scared him off.

 

Later, as he, Wade, and Bob walk home, Mark absently listens to the other two argue about an encounter with the Socs.  
****

“-And they chased us through the neighborhood, right Bob? Yellin’ and insultin’ us. What were their names?” Wade says.

“Felix, the blonde one,” Bob answers. “His girlfriend, Martzia or somethin’.”

“And that other guy, kinda short, with the accent?” Wade asks.

“They all have accents,” Bob comments. “But I think his name was Sean. You know, McLoughlin? From that long string of siblings - the most brutal Socs in the neighborhood. I think he’s the youngest.”

“Real assholes,” Wade spits. “Be careful of ‘em, okay, Mark? I know you haven’t run into them yet, but they’re nasty pieces of work.”

“I’ll be fine,” Mark reassures. “I got that switchblade, right? I’ll be fine.”

“Just pray you don’t run into ‘em,” Bob replies.

Mark doesn’t think much of it. He’s always gotten lucky when it came to Social/Greaser fights. Either he only went up against one of them, or the whole group of them passed him without wanting a fight. The worst he’s gotten was yelled at by a passing car with the chant, ‘ _Greaser_ ’ like it was a disease. And that’s the worst he’s willing to get.

He rubs a thumb over the switchblade, wondering if he’ll ever really get to use it. He hopes not.

 

 

He runs into Jack a third time while at the local diner. He decided to stop in for a quick breakfast before heading to work.

The only thing that plummeted his mood was a car full of Socials passing by. They followed him for half a block, spitting foul things at Mark. Luckily that’s all they did before speeding away.

It was still enough to make him sour, so he pulled out a cigarette to calm his nerves. He was not only afraid that might be the moment where his lucky streak ends, but also angry they had to ruin a perfectly good morning.

He was just finishing his cigarette off as he walked into the diner. The short walk, mixed with the tobacco, was enough to calm him slightly.

He was interrupted, however, when a waitress ‘ahem’d loudly and pointed to a ‘No Smoking’ sign. Mark shrugged apologetically before stubbing the cigarette out and throwing the butt away.

He then looked around the diner, searching for a spot to sit, when he suddenly sees a familiar face already watching him. Jack waves him over when they lock eyes.

Mark walks over and sits across from him in the booth. Jack already has a glass of juice in front of him, half filled, and his menu was gone.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Jack comments as Mark sits down.

“Yeah?” Mark replies with a raised eyebrow. “Everyone smokes, Jack.”

“I guess so,” Jack shrugs, but squirms in his seat slightly. “Getting breakfast before work?”

Mark nods. A waitress comes over, not the same who scolded Mark, and sets a menu down in front of him.

“Same here,” Jack says.

“Where do you work?” Mark asks as he picks up the menu and flicks between the pages.

Jack hesitates a moment. “I’m actually in college. I’m studying to be a teacher.”

Mark looks up from the menu. “Really? That’s awesome! I’m impressed.”

“Thanks!” Jack replies with a relieved smile. “I got a class this mornin’.”

“What are you teaching?” Mark asks, after the waitress appeared again and he gave her his order.

“English,” Jack replies, with a small, proud smile. “I’ll be teaching in a college, maybe, like a professor. If not, a highschool teacher.”

“Ooh, good luck,” Mark mumbles. “I can’t imagine what it must be like dealing with Socs everyday.”

Jack seems to freeze up. “What?”

“A couple of ‘em were giving me trouble this morning,” Mark continues, scowling. “But being a teacher? And having to deal with that everyday? I feel bad for ‘em.”

Jack doesn’t get to reply right away, since a moment later, a waitress drops a plate of food in front of him.

“Who were giving you trouble?” Jack asks solemnly.

Mark taps his fingers on the table. “I don’t know. I hadn’t run into ‘em before.”

“What were they doing?” Jack asks, keeping his eyes trained on his plate of food.

“Just yelling things,” Mark shakes his head. “It’s not important. I’d rather not think about it.” He combs back a loose lock of hair.

“I’m sorry,” Jack says, taking a bite of toast.

“It’s not your fault,” Mark says immediately. “It happens all the time. It’s not like I’m not used to it.”

The waitress comes by again to give Mark his food, all the while Jack watching him with sad eyes.

“You shouldn’t be used to it,” Jack says after a moment. “It shouldn’t happen at all.”

Mark shrugs. “Yeah, probably. But it’s not like anything’s gonna change, is it?” He takes a sip of his glass of orange juice. “And anyways, I’m lucky that’s _all_ that happened. My friends haven’t been as lucky.”

Jack doesn’t reply, but Mark knows he understands.

Their conversation picks back up while they eat, and soon they’re joking and laughing like old friends. At one point Jack laughs hard enough he accidentally tips his drink over. Despite the juice being spilt everywhere, and the waitresses and waiters giving them the evil eye, Mark can’t help finding his laugh adorable.

They leave still laughing, and Mark feels like he and Jack have been friends for ages, despite only meeting up a couple times. It’s like they connect perfectly.

As they exit the diner, Mark takes a moment to breathe in fresh air. It’s hinted with the fried food from the diner. He turns to Jack.

“Do you want to meet up properly sometime?” Mark asks. “Instead of just running into each other?”

Jack grins and nods. “Yeah, definitely! Where?”

Mark smirks. “How about the movie house?”

Jack snorts. “Where we first met? Alright, you cheesy sap, sure. Later tonight?”

At this, Mark frowns. “I can’t. I don’t get paid until Friday, and I don’t have enough extra money for a ticket.”

Jack shrugs. “That’s fine. Friday, then?”

Mark nods, relieved Jack didn’t offer to pay for him. “Sounds good.”

“It’s a date!” Jack says, and Mark laughs as he walks off.

.. _.Is_ this a date? Mark wouldn’t say no to the idea. He and Jack get along great. Dating him? Certainly an idea he’d toy with later.

 

When Friday finally came, Mark hadn’t seen Jack all week. They’d agreed to meet at the movie house at seven, giving Mark plenty of time to get home, sort through his paycheck and change.

And given how his friends were so nosy, they noticed when Mark had cleaned a little more, made himself look a little more decent.

“What’s the occasion?” Wade asks teasingly as Mark combs back his hair in front of the bathroom mirror.

“It’s nothin’ Wade,” Mark replies. He sets the comb down, looking at his reflection. A lock of hair escapes the grease and dangles in his face. He scowls before picking the comb back up.

Wade snickers as Bob appears behind him, taking in Mark hastily combing his hair back.

“Nah, somethin’s up,” Bob says. “What’s going on?”

Mark rolls his eyes. He makes sure the lock of hair will stay before turning to his two friends. “Fine, I’ll tell you, but only because you won’t leave me alone if I won’t.” He sighs. “I’m meeting a friend.”

“Oh, like a date?” Wade waggles his eyebrows.

Mark shakes his head. “No, like a hang-out. Happy?”

“You don’t get dressed up for a hang-out,” Bob inquires. “But fine, I’ll let it pass. C’mon, Wade.” He tugs Wade out of the way so Mark can leave the bathroom, Wade pouting the whole time.

“We could’ve gotten it out of him,” Wade was saying, but Mark just walked by and headed for the door.

“I’ll be back in a couple hours,” Mark calls.

“We’ll be waiting!” Bob calls back. “You better tell us how _the date_ it went!”

Mark rolls his eyes again, ignoring the flush coming to his cheeks, and heads outside.

 

Jack was waiting for him in the theater and had saved him a spot. Mark couldn’t help but notice that Jack was wearing dressier clothes. The thought that Jack could’ve dressed up for him sent his face heating up again.

“I think this movie is a science fiction,” Jack remarks. “Something with robots, or aliens. Or both. I didn’t read what it was about.”

“Then we’ll have to guess,” Mark replies with a small smile.

They don’t talk much during the movie, but somehow their hands drift together until their fingers intertwine.

Their hands are still locked together when they leave the theater, wandering from the movie house to the park. The moon lights up the pathways and makes the park look better than in the daytime.

“So - Random question,” Jack says suddenly. “How often do you smoke?”

Mark hums. “Only when I’m stressed, I guess. Not often.”

“Okay. That makes sense,” Jack replies.

“Now - my question for you,” Mark says. “Do you have roommates?”

Jack shrugs. “I used to live with my siblings, but they all moved out. I might as well live with my other friend, he comes by all the time with his girlfriend. But, technically, I live alone.”

“Any job?” Mark asks.

“I thought it was my turn to ask a question?” Jack teases. “I guess you could say that. I do odd jobs for my parents’ friends.”

“And that helps pay off everything?” Mark asks incredulous.

Jack’s eyes dart from Mark’s to the path in front of them. “My parents help.” He almost sounds defensive, so Mark doesn’t pry.

They walk out from underneath a tree and Mark looks up, admiring the little lights in the sky. The stars flickered in and out of focus, and complimented wonderfully with the full moon.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Mark says, grinning at the sky.

“...Yeah, it is,” Jack replies wistfully, and Mark turns, startled to find Jack was staring at him instead of the sky.

Mark swallowed, feeling himself blush at the intense way Jack was looking at him. Jack was smiling softly when his hand lifted up towards Mark’s face. Mark didn’t move as Jack brushed a stray lock of hair to behind Mark’s ear. His hand paused, then dropped so it was cupping Mark’s cheek. Mark brings his own hand up and sets it on top of Jack’s.

For a moment, it looked like Jack might lean in, and Mark was prepared for it. _Wanted_ it, even. But then Jack’s expression changed, from loving to pained. He yanked his hand away, biting his lip.

“...Sorry,” Jack mumbles, taking a step away. Their hands, still interlocked, fell apart.

Mark stood there, stunned. They almost kissed. But Jack pulled away.

“I’ll...see you around?” Jack suggests, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Mark furrows his eyebrows. “Er - did I do something wrong?”

Jack swallows and shakes his head. “No, no...I just can’t, right now. I need to figure some stuff out.” He clasps his hands together and look down. “I’m sorry. Friends?” He holds out a hand.

It’s forceful when Mark takes it and says, “Friends.”

“I’ll see you around?” Jack repeats.

Mark nods, mouth suddenly dry. “Yeah.”

Jack gives him one more smile before turning and walking off into the darkness. Mark turns away and walks home, digging his packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one up.

 

He doesn’t see Jack for a while after that. Granted, Mark tries not to go anywhere else besides home and work.

He was upset and confused, and while he would love to see Jack again, after that rejection he doesn't know how well it would go. Considering they almost kissed that night, and Jack had been obviously uncomfortable with it, he feels that if they met up it would only be awkward. 

He thought about that night a lot, and while thinking, he might’ve burned through a couple more packets of cigarettes than he usually smoked. It’s started to become consistent that his clothes smelled like tobacco.

Bob and Wade have noticed; it's obvious by the looks they give him and the hushed whispers from the next room. They don't talk to him though; giving each other space and letting them figure it out on their own is usually what they do. And Mark's grateful for that. He'd rather not open up his whirlwind of thoughts just yet.

After a week of going nowhere except home and work, he can't stand it anymore. If he runs into Jack, oh well. He needs to take a walk.

It's evening when he shouts into the house he's going out, barely waiting a second for Bob to reply before he's out the door. The air is cooled without the sun and Mark can hear the faint crickets from the bushes alongside the house.

He looks up at the sky, but is disappointed to see the stars and the moon are blocked out by clouds.

The park is empty and quiet at night. Mark walks along the path in just a plain t-shirt and jeans. A breeze ruffles through his hair as he lean against a street lamp.

He debates lighting a cigarette when he's suddenly blinded by headlights. The loud honking and familiar shouts pass by him and his heart picks up.

They pass by on the road surrounding the park, but Mark can hear the squeal of tires as they turn back around. They're not finished yet, and Mark can tell his lucky streak might be over.

He sprints across the park before the car passes by again, digging a hand in his pocket for his switchblade. There's a shout behind him, then he sees the car begin circling the park.

Mark swallows and runs the opposite way, but the car is faster than him and meets him at every end of the park that he tries to escape to. He debates if calling for help, hoping that Bob and Wade might hear, will be enough.

He audibly gasps when the car seems to have had enough of the circling and drives fully onto the park. Mark is fast, but he wouldn't be able to outrun a car.

He tries, though, sprinting a good few meters before he trips on a root and collides with a tree. He almost expects the car to run him over. Instead, the brakes squeal, and car doors open and shut behind him.

Mark turns around, his back against the tree, switchblade in hand. The headlights spotlight him and makes it hard to discern the two figures heading towards him.

"Ooh, we haven't seen this one before, have we, Martzia?" A voice cooes from his right.

"No, I don't think so, Felix," A feminine voice responds from his left.

Mark bites his lip. These were the people Bob and Wade had warned him about. There was another one, too. Sean? Was that right?

Felix walks closer, and Mark can see he has a baseball bat in hand, with a terrifying grin on his face.

Mark holds out the switchblade, taking a defensive position and tries not to shake. Felix only laughs as a response and swings the bat.

It collides with Mark’s hand and the switchblade is tossed into the grass. He holds his throbbing hand to his chest as he watches Martzia pick up the blade.

Felix swings again, and Mark puts his arm up to shield his face. The bat hits his forearm, _hard_ , and Mark bites his lip to keep from whimpering.

Then something hits his stomach, making him grunt and kneel. He watches Martzia takes a step back, adjusting her heel. Then Felix is pulling his fist back and pain explodes in his face.

Mark falls backwards, grunting and holding a hand to his eye. Another fist hits the other side of his face, and he’s momentarily dazed.

His mind is still catching up when he feels his hands being forced above his head and Felix straddles his waist. He hears him say something to Martzia and then his own switchblade is being pressed against his throat.

Mark stills, his breath coming shallow to avoid pressing against the knife. Felix is grinning above, made to look even more sinister with the headlights illuminating his face. He puts more pressure on the blade, and Mark begins to feel a sting just under his jaw. It’s followed by the feeling of liquid running down his neck.

Felix turns to Martzia. “Hey, get Sean out here, he’s missing all the fun!”

Martzia gives him a thumbs up and goes to the car. Mark can hear a door open and talking, then he sees two dark figures coming closer.

His breath catches as they walk past the headlights. Martzia has her arm locked with _Jack_.

Mark blinks, once, twice. But he’s not imagining it. That’s Jack, dressed in expensive clothes only a Soc would wear, his eyes downcast as he tries to make himself look small.

Slowly, slowly, he lifts his bright blue eyes and meets Mark’s. He looks pained, or apologetic, but Mark can only be _shocked_.

_Jack. A Soc._

The knife digging deeper into the cut on his jaw brings him back to reality. Felix turns to the other two.

"Sean, get over here and land one or two," Felix suggests. "He's completely at our mercy."

Mark doesn't dare say anything, too afraid to speak with the knife at his throat. But he does stare at Jack, mustering up enough strength to glare at him through a swelling eye.

Jack hesitates, looking from Felix to Mark and back again. Then he opens his mouth, his eyes on Felix with a defiant glint in them.

Then a fist comes out of nowhere and nails Felix in the jaw.

The next few seconds are a blur, filled with shouting and punching and scrambling. He hears car doors slam, shouts, then the headlights fading and tires squealing away.

Then hand are lifting him up, and Wade's voice in his ear, "Shit. Mark, it’s okay, they're gone."

Mark mumbles that he's okay but both Bob and Wade help him as they walk home. All the while thinking, _Jack's a Soc, Jack's a Soc, Jack's a Soc._

 

His face was a battered mess. His right eye had swelled to size of a baseball and was a dark purple. His left cheek had a large bruise that spread to his nose. He has a perfect purple imprint of a heel across his ribs. His hand and forearm were swollen and bruised.

All in all, he was a sore, beaten mess.

And he couldn’t care less.

To learn his friend - his crush? - was Sean McLoughlin, of the roughest Soc family in the neighborhood, hurt more than his injuries.

That was all he could think about the following week.

The whole event scared Bob and Wade enough that they wouldn’t leave him alone. One was constantly by his side, if not both of them. They threatened anyone who dared _look_ at him wrong.

And Mark felt comforted that his friends would always be there for him, but that didn’t help the empty hole in his heart only one person could fill.

It was only after that first week that they started to lessen the Mother Hen behavior. His face still hurt like a bitch, and his ribs weren’t healing that fast, but he was better than a week ago, so that’s something.

When he finally got Bob and Wade to stop being overly protective, he went to other places to calm his mind. It was like he was on house arrest with those two being around constantly, and getting some time alone was like freedom.

He started to stop at the diner again in the evenings, even if it was just a sodapop and nothing else. The atmosphere calmed him; it was noisy enough to drown out his own thoughts and let him sit there blankly.

But, as luck would have it - or maybe it’s a curse - he just _had_ to run into Jack again.

Mark had been at a booth, blankly sipping on a sodapop while tearing a napkin into tiny pieces. When the front door rung the bell above it, he didn’t think much of it. It rings all the time with the same, boring people.

Instead, a moment later, someone slid into the booth opposite him.

Mark looked up and was startled to see Jack staring back at him, his hands clasped together apprehensively. But that wasn’t what caught Mark’s attention first. It was the large bruise on the side of Jack’s face, crawling over his eye and cheek.

“What the hell happened to you?” Mark asks at the same time Jack says, “Mark, we need to talk.”

Jack looks startled for a moment, before reaching up to the bruise. “Er, on that night, a week ago,” He bit his lip. “When your friends came, one nailed me before I got in the car.” He laughs bitterly. “I kinda deserved it.”

Mark doesn’t reply, returning to sipping his sodapop.

“You look worse than I do,” Jack continues. “And, about that night, I’m so sorry--”

“About what?” Mark asks, then, his frustration and anger sparking up into a flame. “That you lied to me? That you _tricked_ me? Or stayed quiet while _your friends_ beat the shit outta me?” He scoffs. “Jack’s not even your real name, _Sean_.”

Jack flinches. “I know, I know. But I never lied! Everything that I told you about me was true! Even my name. Jack’s a nickname I prefer over Sean.” Jack swallows. “But I did stay quiet. I wanted to stop them, _god I did_ , and I was _terrified_ when I saw you next to that streetlamp and Felix’s suggested ‘having some fun’. I didn’t want you hurt, you gotta believe me.”

He reaches across the table to grab Mark’s hand, but Mark only pulled it away and hid it under the table. Jack looks pained, but retracts both his hands into his lap.

“I’m sorry,” Jack says, and Mark nearly flinches at the raw emotion in his voice. “I’m so, so sorry. There’s nothing I can do to fix what I’ve done.”

“Why were you at the drive-in that day?” Mark asks, his eyes downcast.

Jack blinks. “What?”

“Why were you at the drive-in theatre?” Mark asks more forcefully. “That day, when you offered me change?”

Jack bites his lip. “To watch a movie, what else?”

“But you weren’t dressed like a Soc,” Mark continues. “And _Socs_ don’t offer to help _Greasers_.”

Jack doesn’t reply. He nervously sets his hands on the table, then in his lap, then back on the table. Finally he meets Mark’s eyes. “Not many people know who I am. If I say Jack, then they won’t know I’m part of the McLoughlin family. Sometimes it’s nice to not get attention.” He swallows. “But when I saw you, I was looking for trouble. I grew up in a family where all my siblings always went on and on about the ‘horrible Greasers’. And I believed them, every story they told.” He runs his hand through his hair. “So yes, I was looking to trick you or maybe get ****

something out of you about what the Greasers do - I don’t know. I was being stupid. But then you said that whole, ‘Not all of us are the same’, and I guess it opened my eyes? ‘Cause my siblings were brutal, as the whole neighborhood knows, but it never appealed to me. I always prefered the sidelines.” He shrugs. “But that was it. Anything after that wasn’t an act, I swear.”

Jack was looking at him, with those hypnotic blue eyes, wide and pleading, and Mark felt himself caving. He wants Jack back, but he’s still angry, upset, betrayed. His mind is a ping pong game of his emotions going from _upset_ to _want_.

He shakes his head, standing from the table. He slaps a bill down next to the sodapop and heads for the door. He doesn’t see it, but he knows Jack is following him.

When Mark gets outside, he goes to the side of the building and digs in his pocket for his cigarette packet. He pulls one out, along with his lighter, and leans against the brick wall as he breathes in deeply.

Then a hand appears and pinches the hot end of the cigarette, before pulling it out of his mouth entirely. Mark watches with smoke flowing out of his nose as Jack grinds the cigarette under his shoe.

“Stop doing that,” Jack says sharply. “I can’t stand knowing you’re upset.”

“Of course I’m _fucking upset_ ,” Mark throws his hands in the air. “How could I not, after I found out? After all you’ve told me? You’ve lied to me, stood there while I was beaten, and led me to believe we could’ve been something,” Mark laughs bitterly. “And, _fuck_ , I _still_ want you. Even after all this bullshit, I still want you.” His voice trails off. He covers his face with his hands.

After a moment he feels hands gently takes his and pull them away from his face. Jack is cautious as he links their fingers together, similar to after their movie date.

“We can still make this work, if you want,” He says softly. “I know I have a lot to make up, and you probably don’t want to see me anymore, but I’m willing to fix the damage if you’ll give me a second chance--” He cuts off his rambling as Mark lifts his hand to cup Jack’s face. His thumb brushes against Jack’s bottom lip and Jack shudders.

“Can I…?” Mark asks, leaning in closer.

Jack’s mouth has gone dry so he nods in response. Mark closes the gap between them.

The kiss is slow and sweet, but picks up the pace as they move along. Mark’s hands slide down to Jack’s waist and brushes the skin underneath his shirt. Jack shivers and his hands comb through Mark’s hair, tugging at the locks gently.

When they stop to breathe, Mark has Jack pressed against the wall. Jack is dazed and his face is flushed, and Mark decides he wants to see that look more often.

Jack recovers quickly and pulls his hands up to Mark’s cheeks, pulling him close so that their foreheads touch. His blue eyes meet Mark’s brown. His warm breath ghosts across Mark’s cheeks as he says, “I love you.”

Mark smiles and kisses him again, quick but sweet, before reeling back again with “I love you too” between breaths.


End file.
